#biiii

[melodicsiren]

"Are you Canopus?"

"....am I weed???"

[movisual]

I'm also wearing Vans ajfjengskkx

[deadsailorsdontsleep]

Dat Look™: Tina Tevetino Edition

[marco-fushicho]

simplysabo

  invalxsco  { SO since it’s my...

I SWeAR I DID MY HOMEWORK PROFESSOR !

YOU BETTER HAVE.

[bi-any-chance]

DISNEY CRUSHES ARE *BI* CULTURE. Like I could make a listtt... in fact... (some of) MY DISNEY CRUSHES: Rowan/Riley/but Rowans way better Corey Fogelmanis (and Farkle too...) Benny Boi from Descendants Dove Cameron Carlos De Vil (#jealous) ...andmore... Thank you to Rowan and Corey for helping me realize I'M SUPER BIIIIIII

[janeaudreyy-blog]

Dyed💙😍

[ninetalees]

i feel like im not really in touch with my own feelings? like, im scared of being honest with myself, like i cant express my own emotions properly and when i do it’s too intense and it’s an outpouring, and it scares ppl off. i just wish i knew how to be balanced about it?? like it’s one extreme or the other, but overwhelmingly it’s that unable to express myself properly, that i cant be honest with myself and my feelings. idk. ive hurt people that way and i know i have, in both respects (feeling too much and not enough) more than once. idk. sometimes i think i should talk to someone like, it’s really not good enough but i don’t know how else to be. like it’s kind of that british/irish thing about us being emotionally stunted unless we’re pissed LMAO, that me. anyways. sorry idk why i wrote this like i dont wanna project on anyone, anyone who reads this dont acknowledge it yo just me feelin sorry for myself and thinkin 2 much

[ryusxnka-moved]

❝ to grieve deeply is to love fully. ❞

       God of war: Ragnarok starters.

     E motionally incarcerated 'gainst the barbed enclosure of intimate attachments, blunders, he believes, for he acquainted with the arduous repercussions of befriending humans and yet willfully selects to unadvisedly establish these relations nonetheless, and stringent Shinigami professionalism, disconnected executions entirely bounded to eradicating anomalous threats. --- This was not the first time she brings up the subject of death, specifically theirs --- of their inevitable passing as a mortal woman --- and he distastes every segment of its aching continuance. - Grief was naught unfamiliar to him in the slightest, consecutively weighting, painstakingly so, its hefty existence 'round the susceptible crux of his heart as if to evermore rupture. ----- He recalls the manner she had taken and tenderly held his hand concernedly, coursing warmth throughout fingers whose layered skin was naturally sheltered by paddings of frigidity, as she spoke of her innermost desires, during a preceding discussion months prior amidst a visitation, in regards to his salubrity, his contentment, how it thrusts a sharp-edged knife through his mind, twisting it so unmercifully until it hemorrhage with burdening uncertainty. It goes without saying that he'd rather not think of what may become of them the instant she exhaled her last breath within a tangible, living, body he's never genuinely possessed.

    Once she is Konso'ed into the soul society, tearing the two into a separation amongst a world marred in destitution, appetite resulting to cannibalistic slaughtering ever remaining unpunished, and furthermore, mistreatment of the cruelest of degrees. --- He swallows, conveying his eyes earthward 'pon the ground they awkwardly stood, immaculately genteel as the simper she portrayed 'gainst her porcelain visage as she reassured. To grieve happenstances, no matter if they had already transpired or were forthcoming, equalized to have loved something or someone completely. ---- Love; A concept foreign to the adolescent, but even so, he is gradually pulling at its strings of realization and acceptance with subtle precision, able to insert the feeling in a file of comprehension. Peach had become a comrade he had sworn to protect, to take care of if necessary, and it is with that tacit pledge that he opposes himself, unsheathing his Zanpaku-to, endeavoring to steady its clasp as he directs its hilt's point in alignment to her forehead. " Are you ready ... Boletusella? " he inquires, intonation faltering in spite of his efforts. This may be the last time they speak, the last time he's greeted with her magnanimous ambitions, and it breaks him like glass, like Ice who has been thawed by the flames of amity. He grieves this unjustified valedictory. ----- Damn it all, he cusses.

     How tragically ironic it was that she had succumbed to an illness.